


Outlaw

by Inkognito97



Series: The ABC of Obi-Wan Kenobi [18]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: Action/Adventure, Alternate Universe - Western, Bandits & Outlaws, Gen, Gunshot Wounds, Not a Crossover, Obi-Wan is send into another dimension/universe, Padawan Obi-Wan, The Force moves in mysterious ways, Time-Travel?, Western, just borrowed Clinch
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-03
Updated: 2017-01-03
Packaged: 2018-09-14 13:37:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 18,789
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9183895
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Inkognito97/pseuds/Inkognito97
Summary: The Force moves in mysterious ways, especially when it sends one of its own children back into the 18th and 19th century, also called the time of the Cowboy and Indians.Or in other words: Obi-Wan meets the Wild WestPart 15 in 'The ABc of Obi-Wan'





	

**Author's Note:**

> This is NOT a Crossover between 'Star Wars' and 'A Million Ways To Die In The West'. I simply borrowed the character (since Qui-Gon and Clinch Leatherwood are both being played by Liam Neeson.
> 
> Disclaimer: The characters do not belong to me (except the bandits, since I made them up)
> 
> I hope you like this little... Experiment... XD

Outlaw

 

The Force moves in mysterious and sometimes very strange ways, Obi-Wan decided when he woke up on a sandy ground, even though he KNOWS that he had been in his bed minutes, or maybe it were hours, ago. He also knows that he had been wearing sleep clothes and not his usual Jedi clothes, but once more the ginger haired boy blamed the Force. What other explanation was there for him to wake up, Force knows where and completely alone, without his lightsaber and without the ability to use the Force.

He groaned and slowly sat up, which he immediately regretted. He felt as if he had been chewed on and swallowed by a gundark, only to be puked up again. Obi-Wan took a few deep and calming breathes, all the while trying to stop his world from spinning. It worked, a little and the ginger haired boy was able to stand up, on shaking legs, but at least this was something. With one hand leaning against a rock, Obi-Wan eventually took the time to look around. He had woken up between two canyons, in a small passage. Other than that there was not much to see.

 

Suddenly the heavy pounding of hooves could be heard and the sound was echoed by the high cliffs. Obi-Wan mentally cursed. It sounded as if the animals were coming his way and there was not much space to move out of the way and the young Jedi doubted that he had a chance of outrunning them, should the animals prove to be dangerous.

The sound became louder and now Obi-Wan could also make out the voices of a few men between the pounding of hooves and not a moment later, the animals came around the curve.

“Woah!” the leader of the group yelled once his eyes landed on Obi-Wan’s form and he held up his hand to signal his men to stop.

Obi-Wan just glared at the obvious leader, who looked way too much like Qui-Gon for his opinion, but the man’s behaviour and body language was completely different from that of the kind hearted Jedi.

“Well well, look who we’ve got ‘ere,” the man’s voice heavily accented.

Obi-Wan pushed himself away from the rock he had been leaning on and stood proudly now that his world was not spinning anymore and his legs had stopped shaking. He straightened up to his whole height, but to the ginger haired boy’s dismay he barely could look into the mount’s eyes. He still had to look up at the man who was wearing a strange looking hat and a dark cloak. But then again, the other men were wearing similar clothes and it was probably Obi-Wan who looked strange and out of place. The leader rested his right hand on his thigh and his other hand held the reins of his mount, while he leaned forward.

“What’s your name?”

Obi-Wan forced himself to keep his calm facade up and answered in a neutral tone, “Obi-Wan Kenobi.”

“Obi-Wan Kenobi?” the man repeated, trying the name on his tongue, “What a strange name... tell me boy, are ya an Indian?”

Obi-Wan had absolutely no idea what that was, “Not that I know of.”

The leader huffed in amusement, a nasty grin on his features. This man was definitely not Qui-Gon and somehow Obi-Wan had the feeling that he was no relative either. His men were slightly chuckling behind his back.

“And such a fine manner of speaking, eh boys?” again the five men behind him were chuckling. “Now tell me, what’s a greenhorn like ya doing out ‘ere all on his own?”

“Got bored... wanted to see the world,” Obi-Wan lied.

“Let me guess, travelled with a group of others ‘n got attacked by bandits?” the man was smiling nasty again and once again the men laughed. They seemed to do that a lot, maybe to please their leader.

“Maybe,” Obi-Wan shrugged.

The leader hummed and dismounted from his animal. With a clank he landed on the ground and started to approach the ginger haired boy. With every step the man took, another clang was heard. The man only stopped when he was right in front of the younger male. Even though Obi-Wan was standing straight and the man clad in black a little hunched, with both his hand on his belt, the young Jedi was smaller.

“These lands are dangerous, ‘specially for a greenhorn like ya,” he reached out with his gloved hand, but before he could touch Obi-Wan, the ginger haired boy had a hard grip on his wrist. Immediately cold sea blue eyes narrowed dangerously; it was obvious that the man didn’t like to be defied. A lot like Qui-Gon, Obi-Wan thought bitterly.

Before either male could say or do anything else, shouting could be heard from where the group had come from.

“Boss,” one of the man exclaimed. He had a big noise and a scruffy looking full beard.

“We’ve been found,” another man said, this one was bulkier build than the others.

“Dang ma melt, we’ve got t’get out of ‘ere,” the first one spoke again.

“Get your shit back together y’fools and let’s head out,” the leader spoke to his men, before he turned towards Obi-Wan again, who was still holding tightly onto the gloved wrist, “The way I see it, ya’ve got two choices, come with us or stay ‘ere ‘n get killed or imprisoned. It’s up to ya.”

 

He pulled his wrist free and turned to saddle up on his riding animal. Once he had done so, he looked back down to Obi-Wan with a raised eyebrow. The young Jedi didn’t like either option, but his instinct told him he should go with the group, so he finally stepped forward. The bad Qui-Gon copy smiled satisfied and even offered his hand to help Obi-Wan, but the Jedi did not so much as look at it.

“Is this your first ride on a horse?” the man asked.

Obi-Wan presumed that he meant the animal, “Yes.”

The man huffed, “Then ya better hold on tight.” Obi-Wan did not hold onto the man, who regarded him with a raised eyebrow. It was already bad enough that he had to sit so close to that fellow. Besides he had more than enough practice riding other animals, how bad could this be?

“If ya fall down, I won't come after you,” Obi-Wan remained silent, he had already figured that, “Suit yourself!”

With that he pulled at the animal’s reins and kicked it in his side, causing the horse to get up on its two rear legs. Stubbornly Obi-Wan forced himself to stay on the animal’s back without gripping onto the man before him.

“Bastard,” Obi-Wan mumbled once the animal was galloping fast.

The man roared with laughter, “Now we’re talking. So the little greenhorn’s capable of using foul language…”

“You never told me your name.”

“Ya can call me Clinch, Clinch Leatherwood,” Obi-Wan made sure to remember that name.

 

* * *

 

“We’ll stop ‘ere,” Clinch bellowed while slowing his horse down. Secretly Obi-Wan was very grateful for the rest. The ride had not been exhausting or really difficult, but his rear was beginning to hurt, not that he would show or admit this in front of his new companions.

The young Padawan had long since figured out that he was dealing with criminals and he had learned from experience that you should never show any form weakness in front of those people.

“Come on, get down,” Clinch said and Obi-Wan carefully slid down the horse’s back. A moment later he was joined by the man clad in black. “Set up camp and ya,” he turned towards the ginger haired boy, “don’t get in our way.”

 

Obi-Wan watched the men work from afar. Qui-Gon had once taught him the importance of observance, especially when you find yourself in strange and unknown situations.

From what he had gathered, the men were rather close as if they were travelling together for a long time now, but there was definitely some kind of rank system. Clinch was undoubtedly the leader of the group. The one with the full beard and the big nose, his name was Lewis, apparently was the right hand man of Clinch. John, the bulkier one came next in the hierarchy, followed by Lester who was quite a nervous fellow. Obi-Wan wasn’t sure about the other two. He had gathered that their names were Clayton and Clifford, yet he wasn’t sure who of the men was who. The two were always together, the way they worked together spoke of years of training and trust.

 

Obi-Wan sighed, he could feel a headache forming. But the worst part was, he still had no real connection to the Force. Thankfully Qui-Gon had trained and instructed him for those kind of situations, yet it unsettled him. Another sigh and Obi-Wan closed his eyes. He was currently sitting on a rather large rock, from which he could watch the bandits, without them immediately seeing him. A few lonely and rather cured trees stood around it, which hinted that here had been water once. It would have been the perfect spot to meditate had he just been able to connect to the Force properly. Instead the ginger haired boy took a few deep breathes and tried to find his centre again, without the use of the Force. It worked to a certain degree and by the time he was satisfied, the men had sat up camp and were now talking heated with each other. Almost as if they were arguing and the young Jedi tried to figure out what they were saying.

“I thought ya kept an eye on the Indian boy!” Lester said and he wrinkled up his nose at that. Obi-Wan was certainly NOT an Indian boy, he didn’t even belong here.

“Why me? I’m not a babysitter,” it was either Clifford or Clayton, said.

“Oh? And I am?” Lester asked, his tone warning. Obi-Wan also saw how the man’s hand was reaching for the primitive looking blaster, yet he didn’t quite take it. Lester’s twitching finger tips were barely touching the handle.

Sensing his mistake, the other quickly took a defensive stand with his hands up and eyes wide, “No, I didn’t mean it like this.” The fellow’s friend was slowly inching closer to Lester.

“Oh? Are ya sure? Because I’m pretty sure, ya did.” This could prove to become quite ugly.

“Stop it ya two! Instead of behaving like two women ya should look for the redskin,” John spit on the ground, “If Clinch returns and the brat’s gone, we’re all in trouble!”

That caught Obi-Wan’s attention, who hadn’t realised that the leader was not among the men. But before he could figure out where the cheap Qui-Gon copy could have run off to, especially without his horse, he heard the already familiar clank of a certain pair of boots that was slowly creeping closer. With trained Jedi reflexes Obi-Wan stood up and turned around, facing the man, who had tried to sneak up on him. He was crouching in a defensive position, ready to attack or to run at every moment, but Clinch made no move, so Obi-Wan remained still as well.

Dark blue eyes regarded him with a mixture of interest and concealed surprise. Blue orbs met blue-green ones and neither male dared to show any weakness by looking away first.

“Clinch!” one of the men suddenly exclaimed and a few pair of feet came running where Obi-Wan had sat. He had no doubt that at least one or two of them pointed their strange weapons at him and when the ginger haired Jedi turned to look, he saw that he had been right.

He huffed, “You think I am a wild and stupid savage, do you not?”

“What else should ya be, greenhorn?” Clinch spoke up, his voice cold, “Ya know that I don’t appreciate to be lied to, don’t ya?”

“So I am a liar now too?”, the young Padawan knew he was playing a dangerous game, “That is quite ironic, considering that you are the criminals.”

“Ya wound me,” the leader said in mock hurt, “We’ve shown ya nothing but hospitality ‘n that’s how ya repay us?”

“Hostility would be the better word.”

Clinch actually laughed at that, “Mere words… they’re meaningless.”

From the corners of his eyes, Obi-Wan saw Lester’s finger dangerously twitching on the trigger. He would have to keep an eye on the nervous one. “What do you want with me?”

“I hardly think ya’re in any place t’ask questions, greenhorn!”

“I am not afraid of you!” Obi-Wan stood up to his full height to get his point across. Immediately the primitive blasters followed his movement, but the young male ignored them and crossed his arms before his chest while looking down at the Qui-Gon copy.

“Ya should be,” the man named John suddenly said.

“Yeah, I could blow a hole in ya’pretty head if I wanted to,” Lester threatened.

“I doubt you would be able to land a hit on me, if I stood directly in front of you,” this was not only an insult, but the truth. His Jedi reflexes and natural instincts should help him dodge the shot.

“Why ya! I’m gonna show ya your place!” Lester pressed out between clenched teeth and stepped forward, pointing his weapon right at Obi-Wan’s face.

“Enough!” bellowed Clinch suddenly, causing the man to flinch. The ginger haired Jedi did not even move a single muscle at the outburst, but with fascination he saw how the nervous and angry man put away his weapon. “Ya wanna prove a point boy? Then do it as a man. Get down there!”

Deciding that he should not test his luck further, Obi-Wan eventually complied. Immediately a heavy hand landed on his shoulder and stirred him a few feet away. With his free hand, Clinch beckoned Lester to follow, who immediately did so. The nervous guy had pulled out his weapon again, but he was not pointing it at Obi-Wan just yet, which the young Jedi assumed, was due to the fact that his leader was standing right between them. Clinch’s gloved hand was moving towards his silver weapon, but then he hesitated before his arm reached for his other side, where a second blaster was resting. With a sweeping motion that probably was supposed to impress Obi-Wan, the bandit took the weapon from his holster and spun it in the air before easily catching it. The handle was now pointing towards Obi-Wan and the older male offered it to the young Jedi. With more confidence than the ginger haired teenager actually possessed, he took the weapon from the gloved hand, which earned him a nasty grin.

“Ever shot with a gun?”

“No,” Obi-Wan answered before he could think. The men laughed and he could have sworn that the Qui-Gon copy was giving him a pitying look.

“That’s gonna to be an easy win!”

Ignoring the other man’s comment, Clinch took Obi-Wan’s hand in his own, which the young Jedi allowed. The older male adjusted the ginger haired Jedi’s grip on the gun and quickly whispered some instructions towards the boy, so that his men couldn’t hear. Obi-Wan was surprised that the man was helping him and now that he thought about it, it might not have been pity he had seen in the other male’s eyes, but something entirely different.

“Alright, good luck greenhorn, ya’ll need it.” Obi-Wan didn’t doubt that for one moment.

 

Clinch got out of the way and turned to lean against the rock Obi-Wan had occupied moments before. He crossed his arms over his chest and kept an eye on the two opponents, clearly interested, but also tense for some reason.

Meanwhile Lester stepped confidently forward and raised his gun so that it was pointing directly at the ginger male’s head. Obi-Wan quickly followed suit, trying to remember what the Qui-Gon copy had told him.

“It’s gonna to be like this redskin, I’ll count to three and then we’ll shot, got it?” The way the man’s brown eyes sparkled, Obi-Wan feared that he wouldn’t wait until he had reached three.

“Got it,” the Jedi answered nevertheless and solemnly focused on the man’s forefinger that was resting against the trigger.

“Now squirt,” Obi-Wan barely kept himself from rolling his eyes, “One…two...”

Years of Jedi training as well as the little connection to the Force he still had, allowed Obi-Wan to dodge the projectile that would have hit him right between his eyes. Brown eyes widened in shock and disbelief and settled to rest on the teenager, who was now kneeling a few feet further away from his original spot. Calm blue-green eyes met brown ones and before the older male could so much as blink, Obi-Wan had raised the weapon Clinch had given him and shot. A loud bang was heard and a moment later, Lester’s gun flew away from his owner, who yelled in pain.

Obi-Wan huffed, he had not even hit the man, just disarmed him. He WAS still a Jedi after all and Qui-Gon had taught him that every life, as pathetic as it appeared, was valuable.

“Shit, ya fucking bastard!” Lester screamed and suddenly dashed forward. If Obi-Wan really had meant the man ill, he just would have shot a second time and that would have been it then. But since that was not the Jedi way, the young Padawan threw away his gun and engaged the older and taller male in a fist fight which quickly ended with the bandit being pinned to the ground. Laughter erupted from around them.

“I thought ya wanted t’show the redskin his place?” the man called Lewis teased.

Hateful brown eyes looked up at Obi-Wan, “I’m gonna kill ya, if Clinch doesn’t look.” Obi-Wan made sure to remember that mumbled promise very well.

 

The heavy hand that landed on his shoulder, made the young Jedi look up. Clinch’s face looked approving, when he lifted the younger male from the fallen bandit.

“Ya better get back to work,” Clinch’s tone was cold when he addressed Lester, who was slowly sitting up.

Defying and rebelling eyes locked with brown ones and the young Jedi found himself wondering why Clinch was travelling with a man that would turn against him as soon as the first opportunity would arise. Maybe the Qui-Gon copy was too blind to see it, or he had a death wish. Either way the two bandits had started to argue and the teenager silently stepped away from them. The rest of the group exchanged unsure glances, apparently this was the first time their leader had been challenged and they were unsure what to do. Obi-Wan had a bad feeling about this, but at least Clinch still had his weapon and Lester could only use his fists and- Obi-Wan’s thoughts came to a sudden halt. Since when did he care about what happened to this Clinch Leatherwood? Maybe he started to care because Clinch looked so much like Qui-Gon, or maybe Obi-Wan was developing a case of Stockholm-syndrome. The teenager was not sure which case he liked better.

A loud thud brought his attention back to the present and with shock he saw Clinch being on his back on the ground, with Lester sitting atop of him and punching. Clinch had raised his arms to protect his face, he couldn’t do much more. His weapon lay next to his black hat, far out of either men’s reach and the rest of the group didn’t look like they were going to interfere. They were probably too scared.

Obi-Wan’s blue-green eyes fell on the gun he had wanted to pick up only a few moments ago. He COULD help the bandits’ leader, but was that what he really SHOULD do? He was more likely to survive with Clinch still alive. That and he liked Lester even less than the black clad man. In a split second, the young learner decided what to do. With a quick movement the ginger haired male grabbed the weapon, aimed and shot. He was not the only one, who flinched violently at the sound of the weapon. Honestly, how in the name of the Force could such a small thing, make so much noise, Obi-Wan asked himself bitterly.

Of course he had hit his target, namely the hat on Lester’s head. It went flying a few metres away, now with a round hole in it. Surprised brown eyes turned to look at him for only a second, but that was enough for Clinch to get the upper hand. With a yelp the nervous bandit was pinned under the heavier and larger frame of his leader, who threateningly looked down at him. His gloved hand was balled to a fist and he hauled off before punching the other man right in the face. Lester was knocked out cold and with an angry huff, Clinch got back to his feet.

“Tie that son of a bitch up,” he ordered.

“Boss?” Lewis gently asked, while Clifford and Clayton grabbed the rope from one of the horses.

“We’ll get rid of that false snake when we reach the next town.” The man nodded and the fury leader turned to look at the ginger haired male.

Obi-Wan forced himself to stay completely still, when Clinch took large strides towards him. Nimble fingers were clutching the gun tightly, but the teenager swore himself that he would only shoot again, if an innocent life was in danger and he somehow doubted that his was, not really at least. Clinch stood now right in front of him and had straightened up to his full height. Not that the young Jedi was impressed, Qui-Gon was just as tall after all. Behind Clinch’s back the men had stopped what they were doing to watch the following display.

“I thought ya never shot with a gun before,” his voice had a dangerous edge and Obi-Wan remembered how Clinch had said that he didn’t like it to be lied to.

“I didn’t,” Obi-Wan answered.

“Ya should be VERY carefully now boy,” the man clad in black warned, with an angry gleam in his eyes.

“I never shot with a gun... but there are other weapons in the world,” he tilted his head, his braid dangling on his chest, to show that he was not impressed.

This conversation was a power play and Obi-Wan knew that. The leader felt threatened and made sure to demonstrate his power, especially since Obi-Wan had the advantage. He had the weapon in his hand, but Clinch couldn’t back down now, it would only look bad in front of his remaining men.

“I am not threatening you or your position,” the smaller male said so that only Clinch could hear him, “I am not interested in any of this. I just want to return to where I belong.”

The taller man’s mouth formed a thin line and his brow was furrowed when Obi-Wan offered him the deadly weapon. Clinch didn’t take it immediately, his eyes were glaring into Obi-Wan’s face, obviously searching for something. The Padawan had allowed the procedure with patience and eventually the taller man relaxed slightly and took the offered gun in his hand. He played with it for a moment, before an evil gleam appeared in his eyes. Not a minute after, Obi-Wan found himself gazing into the weapon’s opening.

“Ya make a hell lot of trouble, redskin.”

Obi-Wan closed his eyes in annoyance and took a calming breath to release his frustration, “I am no redskin, savage or whatever,” his eyes snapped open, “but if I make so much trouble as you say, then do it already. Kill me and save me the trouble of finding my way back.”

There was something on the taller male’s eyes. “I’ve bad news for ya. I don’t take orders from anyone, imp.” He pulled away his weapon and turned around to yell at his men to already finish their job.

“Thought so,” Obi-Wan mumbled, but Clinch must have heard something, for he grabbed the young Jedi’s arm in a tight grip. Instinctively Obi-Wan struggled against it, but the older male just tightened his grip even more. It would undoubtedly bruise later.

“Bring me a rope John,” he bellowed and his man scurried hurriedly away, apparently wanting to please his boss.

 

Obi-Wan was tossed to the ground, but before he could move away, Clinch violently grabbed his neck and pushed him against a tree. John had appeared with the requested robe and was tying the young Jedi against the trunk, before tying his wrists together.

“Tighter,” the dark clad bandit ordered.

John shot a quick glance at his boss, before he gazed upon Obi-Wan apologetically. The young Jedi gritted his teeth and barely kept himself from groaning out loud, when the rope was pulled impossible tight. A normal person would not get out of it without aid, but the ginger haired teenager had the Force. At least some of it, but that was better than nothing. His connection was getting stronger with each passing hour and Qui-Gon had taught him to never lose hope.

When the bandit was finished, he stepped away and joined his colleagues again, who had tied up Lester and were keeping quite some distance to their furious boss. Obi-Wan had no doubt that Clinch was only doing this, because he was beyond furious and maybe even afraid of his position, two emotions that lead to the dark side, how the dark clad man before him proved. Clinch was kneeling down in front of him, his leather boots creaking and the sand under his boots crunching. The ginger haired teenager’s chin was grabbed hard with a glowed hand and Obi-Wan was forced to look the bandit in the face that was only inches away from his own.

“Lester is right, ya better watch ya’mouth imp or I’ll cut ya’tongue out of ‘t,” the anger was radiant in his eyes and the firm set of his lips, “Do ya understand?”

Obi-Wan would not give this man the satisfaction of an answer, so he remained completely still, not moving a single muscle, nor saying one word.

“I don’t like the defiance in ya’eyes,” Clinch’s tone was dangerously low now. Qui-Gon had used that tone only twice, but never against him. The first time he used this tone against Tahl’s murderer and the second time when Obi-Wan had been at the mercy of a bounty hunter. “Answer!” his grip tightened painfully, but again Obi-Wan only looked back at the older man.

Clinch’s eyes narrowed and he released the young Jedi’s chin, only to strike out and give him a resounding slap. Obi-Wan gasped partly in shock, partly in pain. His cheek stung and he tasted blood in his mouth and suddenly Clinch and Lester were on the same low step.

The Qui-Gon copy grabbed his chin again and forced the ginger haired boy to face him again. The worst part of it all was that Clinch did indeed look so much like Qui-Gon, but his Master had never slapped him. The possibility alone was absurd, yet here it was as if it had happened.

“Let’s try this again imp,” Clinch growled out. The only answer he got, was the blood that the young Jedi spit in his face. It had been an impulsive decision and maybe not the action a Jedi would have taken, but Obi-Wan didn’t care right now. He just wanted to get back to the real and gentle and kind Qui-Gon, not this bad and violent copy.

Another slap left Obi-Wan gasping and blinking again. It had been even worse than the first time, no doubt Clinch had put more force behind it. He was slightly disorientated now with the ringing in his ear and the pain on his face. Only barely did Obi-Wan notice how the black clad man stood up and wiped the blood from his face.

“Don’t worry imp, I ain’t finished with ya yet. Ya are gonna learn ya’lesson,” he turned to his men, “Make sure he gets nothing t’eat or t’drink,” with that he moved away.

 

Obi-Wan shook his head to clear his vision before he spit the blood out of his mouth again. Afterwards he felt his mouth with his tongue, searching for a tooth that might have loosened due to the impact. His ears were still ringing and he feared that this would not go away anytime soon. Nor the uncomfortable tickling sensation in his cheek that spoke of overwrought nerves and probably a bruising cheek.

He leaned his head back against the tree trunk so that he could gaze at the quickly darkening sky. It was getting rather cool, not that he would openly show this. Any form of weakness he showed now, would give Clinch an advantage over him. The dry wood was hard and unforgiving against his back and his pounding head, but he had been in worse places before.

The man continued to prepare a fire and to sat up a makeshift camp. Clinch was sitting nearby on a small rock and Obi-Wan knew without looking that the man was watching him and his reaction. Not that the young Jedi reacted or moved in any way. He just closed his eyes and concentrated on the few tendrils of the Force that answered him. It immediately calmed his raging thoughts and his furious temper, but also allowed the numbing sensation on the left side of his face to slightly lessen. It was not much, but the thought alone helped.

“Thank you Qui-Gon,” he mumbled in his thoughts, knowing full well that the tall and long haired Jedi Master would not hear him. Their bond was completely shut down and if he hadn’t been in this strange situation he might have panicked and wondered if Qui-Gon was alive or merely sedated. It felt right however to thank the Jedi for all his training and for all the little tricks he had taught his Padawan, how to get out of a rope without using the Force for example. He barely kept himself from grinning. It was just a matter of time until the men slept. He could feel their exhaustion, especially because of the turbulent events that had happened only minutes ago. He could wait, it was just a matter of patience and time and when they woke up again, well, Clinch and his men were in for a nice little surprise.

 

Clinch was the last man who was awake, seemingly too troubled by his emotions and thoughts. It also seemed as if he wouldn’t fall asleep anytime soon. The ginger haired boy was not so sure about his plan now. If the man would not go to sleep anytime soon, Obi-Wan might not have enough time to get far away.

The stars and the moon shone high above their heads now and he distantly wondered if Qui-Gon was out there somewhere, searching for him.

Clinch however seemed unsettled and more than once had he heard the man move as if he wanted to get up. He HAD gotten up a few times and walked a few steps towards Obi-Wan, but he had always stopped and walked back to his previous place. His emotions were in disarray and Obi-Wan took almost pity in the man, hadn’t it been for his bruised cheek.

Finally, what seemed to the young Jedi like an eternity, Clinch fell into a troubled sleep as well.

“Thank the Force,” Obi-Wan mumbled inaudible.

It was a grave mistake for all men to fall asleep, you could never know what hid and waited for an opportunity and maybe Obi-wan was not hiding, but he certainly was waiting for such an opportunity.

He grinned and was about to wriggle his way out, but then hesitated. The bandits did not know he could do this and maybe it was the best if it stayed this way. He HAD another option after all. Deciding that his second option was the better decision, the young Jedi pulled his leg closer and fumbled with his hands in his boots, where his hidden dagger was. Another mistake the bandits had made, honestly, were they knew in this business? He removed the dagger, it had been a present from Qui-Gon for his latest naming day, and with skilled and precise movements, he cut the rope that was binding his wrists and then the rope that tied him to the trunk. Silently he put the rope on the ground and stood up. He was not making a single noise, for he didn’t want to wake anybody.

“Redskin,” a voice whispered and Obi-Wan immediately recognised it as Lester’s. The man had laid almost next to Obi-Wan and had obviously faked sleep.

“Shit,” Obi-Wan thought, but decided not to tempt his fate anymore and moved towards the bandit.

“Free me,” Lester ordered.

Obi-Wan raised an eyebrow, “Why should I do that?”

“First of all, I won’t scream then,” his grin sent chills down Obi-Wan’s spine, “And I can help ya escape. I know this territory even better than Clinch. I know where we can run so that we reach a town before dawn ‘n how we can calm down the horses enough so that we ain’t gonna alert our common... friends.”

Obi-Wan hesitated for a moment. Lester was maybe his only hope and he couldn’t feel any ill thought from him, at least for now.

“No tricks,” he dared and held the knife close to the other’s throat to emphasise his point.

“I swear by ma colt,” he said. The ginger haired Jedi had no idea what he was swearing upon, but he heard the honesty in the other man’s voice. He quickly freed Lester too, who retreated his belonging from the packs and then he grabbed one of the horses’ reins.

“Are you sure that we will need one?” Obi-Wan protested, but he accepted the reins when Lester gave them to him. He recognised the animal as Clinch’s.

“We’ll walk a few metres, bring some distance between us and those useless and brainless idiots ‘n then we use the horses,” he whispered right back.

The teenager nodded hesitantly and followed the other male.

 

They had walked quite some distance with the horses trotting obediently beside them, when Lester finally stopped and mounted his animal.

“Listen squirt, I’m gonna let ya go this once. The next time we met,” he made a motion as if he was cutting his own throat. The message certainly got across.

“Why not now? Not that I want to die,” he hastily added.

“One hand washes the other. Besides, ya’ve got t’have the guts t’stand up against Clinch Leatherwood. I’ve seen his bloody face and I could tell ‘t wasn’t his, blood that it.”

Obi-Wan nodded grimly and mounted his horse like he had seen Lester do it. Granted, it was probably a little clumsy, but in the end he sat in the saddle. The only problem was that his feet didn’t quite reach the stirrups.

Lester laughed and dismounted. “Let me do this for ya red skinned greenhorn.” Obi-Wan was surprised that the man, who had wanted to kill him not so long ago, was helping him now.

“Why Clinch’s horse?” Obi-Wan asked, while he watched the taller man work.

“Because the old bugger will be quite angry.”

“It is a statement then,” Obi-Wan guessed and nodded satisfied when Lester was finished.

“Ya’re smarter than ya look squirt. Listen, ride this way, don’t stop and ya’ll come upon a town. Don’t stay there too long, or Leatherwood will catch up and let me tell ya, he won’t be amused.”

“What about you?”

“I’m gonna send some Sheriffs on Clinch’s tail, they’ll take care of him. The dirty bastard will wish he’d never met me,” Lester spit on the ground and turned towards his own horse once again. “Good luck squirt, ya’ll need it!” with that he spurred his horse and vanished.

Obi-Wan tried his best to copy Lester’s example and the way he had felt and seen Clinch and his men ride and guide the horse. It took him a few tries and quite some distance until he had everything under control. Thankfully Clinch’s horse was patient, then again, it might be just glad that somebody lighter and kinder than the dark clad man was sitting on its back. Whatever it was, the animal seemed to like Obi-Wan and the Padawan would not complain.

 

He arrived in the small town, Lester had mentioned, sooner than he had guessed. The day had barely began, but the people were already up and doing work. Obi-Wan slowed his horse into a light trot and looked around. The people sent him stares, but no aggression or hostility radiated from them.

The buildings were mostly made out of wood, some where even painted in different colours. The houses were rather small. Outstanding was the building with the sign with ‘Salon’ written on it. Upon closer inspection it turned out to be a bar, were already some man, who wore similar thing to the clothes Clinch and his men had worn, sitting there, drinking and playing cards. The ginger haired boy made a mental note to not go there.

Deciding it would be best to ask some people for help, the ginger haired teenager dismounted, grabbed the reins and continued on foot.

“Excuse me,” he called out to a man with a strange looking moustache.

“Ah, what can I do for the young gentleman?” the man had an accented voice and a fine manner of speaking. He seemed to be of the upper class.

“Would you be so kind to tell me, who responsible for the town’s safety is, please?” Obi-Wan used his polite negotiating tone.

“Certainly young gentleman,” the man seemed nice enough, “That would be Sheriff Darby. You can find him if you follow this street. His office is the last building on the right.” The man pointed towards the said building.

“Thank you very much,” Obi-Wan bowed and the man seemed flattered.

“It was a pleasure. Good day.”

“Good day,” Obi-Wan mumbled and followed the way he had been told. When Clinch was really after him, and the young Jedi had no doubt that the man wanted his horse back, he wanted to at least warn the security of this place. He doubted it was very promising, but at least they people could prepare.

Upon arriving at his destination, the teenager quickly bound his furry friend at the post outside the wooden house with red letters over the door, which formed, ‘Sheriff/Prison’. He hesitantly knocked and only when a voice called for him to enter, did the ginger haired boy step in. He was greeted by a man with brown hair and full beard. He was wearing a brown vest over a white shirt and a star that read ‘Sheriff’ was pinned to the vest. He was currently sitting at his death with his leg propped onto it.

The ‘office’ however, turned out to be a desk with keys hanging on a wall behind it and a chair in the far corner that was currently occupied by a young man. The rest of the building were small cells, which were thankfully not occupied at the moment.

“Look who we’ve got ‘ere Jimmy, a redskin,” the older male exclaimed and took his legs from the wooden desk. The boy, he could not have been much older than Obi-Wan, giggled.

“I am not a redskin,” the Jedi sighed and barely kept himself from rolling his eyes, when Jimmy gasped, “He understands our language.”

“I can hear that,” he turned back towards Obi-Wan, who had his arms crossed over his chest, “Alright ‘not a redskin’ who are ya and what’s your business ‘ere?” He didn’t sound too suspicious.

Obi-Wan silently wondered if all the people were racists, but then he remembered the man with the strange moustache, he seemed to accept him. “My name is Obi-Wan, but that is not of importance right now. I came here to warn you.”

“Warn us? Why ever should ya warn us?” Now the Sheriff’s curiosity and doubt was spiked.

“Some bandits might be on their way here.”

“And how do ya know that?” Jimmy suddenly spoke up.

“Long story short, they captured me, I escaped and might have stolen their leader’s horse. There was somebody else with me, he went into another direction, it could also be that they follow him instead of me.”

The Sheriff leaned back in his chair and ran a hand through his beard, “Do ya know with whom we’re dealin’ ‘ere?”

“Clinch Leatherwood and his men, minus one.”

The two man’s faces went pale and they were too shocked to reply anything for a moment. “Clinch Leatherwood,” Jimmy repeated, his voice was shaking, but it was enough to bring the Sheriff out of his stupor.

“Whatcha waiting for Jimmy? Contact the other town ‘n the men, we need every help we can get if we’ve t’deal with Leatherwood!” without another words, Jimmy had sprung up from his seat and was running outside. Confused Obi-Wan looked at the closed door.

“Is he really so bad, Clinch Leatherwood I mean?”

“He’s the devil in disguise ma boy. Ya’ve got t’have an angel to guide ya, or ya wouldn’t be standing ‘ere, tellin’ dear old Sheriff Darby about him.”

Obi-Wan gulped. He had known the Qui-Gon copy was evil and a bandit, but the way the two men had reacted was discouraging. Did he really know with whom he was dealing here? Deciding that he needed and WANTED to put more distance between him and Clinch, he spoke up, “As I said, I just wanted to warn you... I’ll be on my way then.” But the Sheriff was not listening anymore, he was desperately searching for something in his desk and the ginger haired teenager quietly left the small shelter.

He stepped to his horse, maybe he should name it, and greeted it by petting its head. Afterwards he mounted, still as awkward as the first time and urged the animal into a fast trotting. At least this was working better now, even though his rear started to ache from all the time on the horse’s back. The young Padawan ignored the pain however. He needed to get away as far from here as possible, he had no interest in running into Clinch Leatherwood ever again.

 

* * *

 

The Force moves in mysterious and sometimes very strange ways and definitely wanted to prove him something, Obi-Wan decided when he was speaking to the seventh group of excited people that wanted to know if the rumours where indeed true and the legendary Clinch Leatherwood was captured by a group of Sheriffs in a nearby town. Rumour had it that he was searching for a young Indian boy, who apparently had outsmarted the wanted criminal by freeing himself and stealing the man’s horse. Of course everybody wanted to know this boy, who in the end caused the capture and the death of a feared bandit. The latter hadn’t actually happened yet, the Sheriffs were still too drunk from celebrating their victory, but it was just a matter of time, until they sobered enough to hang the bandit.

Obi-Wan groaned in frustration. He had just wanted to know where the next town was and how far away it was, but people were speaking of nothing else than Clinch Leatherwood these days. It was highly annoying and the worst part was that it left a sick feeling in the boy’s gut, especially when people asked if HE was said boy. Apparently Sheriff Darby had been able to describe him, or maybe it had been Jimmy, either way Obi-Wan had enough which is why he literally fled the town he was currently in and just settled somewhere in the wilderness.

“Master,” he said to the stars, “I could really use your help now. I think I have made a huge mistake... well, mistake might be wrong, but I... I don’t know what to do. It feels as if it is my fault that he was captured and in a way, it is. I mean, hadn’t I stolen his horse, maybe he wouldn’t have followed me.” He sighed and closed his eyes. A cooling breath was the only answer he got, except the howling of the coyotes as the people called them. He was glad for the black horse that was lying right behind him and offered warmth and comfort which the Jedi definitely needed.

“Have you any ideas, Ben?” sadly the horse – he had actually decided to name the horse Ben – only nickered and sadly Obi-Wan had no idea if that meant yes or no. The thought that he wasn’t completely alone helped however. “It feels wrong, Ben. I mean, he was not a nice guy. Scratch that, he IS not a nice guy, but he DID not harm me... much.” Another sigh, “What am I actually saying here? This man... I wish Qui-Gon was here, he would know what to do.”

The animal’s head came to rest on his right shoulder and Obi-Wan reached up to scratch Ben’s head. He liked the horse, it sounded strange and if he was honest with himself, completely crazy, but the black stallion was a great friend and companion. No wonder Clinch wanted to have it back.

“Oh Force... it would really be appreciated, if you’d help me... only a little bit. Send a sign or something and I do what I can.”

With those last words, the ginger haired Jedi Padawan closed his eyes and fell into a restless sleep. Only to be awoken again, by the sound of horses and men approaching the spot he resided. Ben was getting frantic and almost panicked behind him and without another moment of hesitation, Obi-Wan was on his feet. He had his knife in his hand and was ready to face whoever might come his way.

“Halt,” a strangely familiar voice sounded and the group of men dismounted their animals. Behind his rock, Obi-Wan could see that one of them was hurt. The other’s helped him from his animal’s back and laid him on the ground.

“Quick John, get some water,” a bulky shadow moved to grab a bag.

“Come on Cliff, ya can’t leave me,” another man spit out. It sounded as if he was close to tears.

“Gonna... be alright... Clay,” the hurt man mumbled and afterward started coughing violently.

“John! The water, today if ya’d please,” bellowed the man from before.

“We don’t have any water,” John answered.

“Shit!” cursed the bulky man, which Obi-Wan had identified as Lewis.

“What are we gonna to do now?” John asked and there was fear and uncertainty in his voice.

“I don’t know,” Lewis snapped back.

The ginger haired Padawan slowly stepped a few steps back. So the rumours where true. Clinch was indeed captured, otherwise the man would have been with his group and the group wouldn’t be so much out of their minds. He clenched the knife tighter. This was all his fault. He knew it was a bad idea to steal Clinch’s horse. He should have just left it where it was and be done with all of this.

“What should I do?” he asked himself quietly and as expected, no answer came to his mind. Ben nickered, but the men were too busy to notice it, and he pushed Obi-Wan forward with his snout. If that was not a clear sign, then the ginger haired boy did not know what was. He put the knife back into his belt, where he could quickly reach it, and grabbed the water skin he had acquired from one of the travelling groups he had encountered.

“Hey,” he said aloud once he rounded the rock formation and immediately three sets of eyes settled on him.

“You,” Clayton exclaimed and his voice had a dangerous edge to it, “It’s you redskin!” He had gotten up to his feet and his hand was clenching the handle of his gun.

“Easy guys,” Obi-Wan tried to calm the man’s temper. He had raised both his hands to show that he had no weapons, but only a water skin.

“This is all your fault,” Clayton went on and motioned with his weapon towards Clifford, who was still lying on the ground, panting and moaning in pain.

“I can help,” the Padawan tried to reason.

“We don’t want your help! Ya’ve helped us enough already!” Clayton shouted, but this time, Lewis stepped in. “Enough, both of ya!” he lowered his voice, “Give me a reason to let ya live, boy.”

Obi-Wan send a silent prayer to the Force that the current leader was a reasonable man with a brain. “I can help him,” he motioned with his head towards the wounded and bleeding bandit. “I can make sure he survives.”

“How?” Lewis wanted to know.

“I... I can’t really explain, it’s... complicated...” how are you supposed to explain to somebody the Force, when they probably never heard of it before? Obi-Wan was not keen on finding out, nor did he think they had the time for it, with Clifford’s live being on the line.

“Is that so?” Clayton inquired.

“Lower the gun ‘n let the boy come,” the bearded Lewis spoke.

“What?”

“Ya heard what I said.”

“I won’t let that scoundrel anywhere near him!” continued the protest.

“What do we have t’lose?” the bulky John suddenly interfered. He had moved to Clayton’s abandoned position at Clifford’s side and was holding the harshly breathing man’s hand. “He’s dyin’ either way.”

“John’s right, ya hear?” the temporary group leader agreed.

“But,” one warning glance from Lewis made Clayton stop. The man huffed and turned his body away, while the bulkier of the two looked at Obi-Wan, who took it as a sign to approach. He handed the water to John, who gratefully accepted it, and kneeled down at Clifford’s other side. From this position the teenager saw the blood on the man’s usually brown jacket. His eyes were shut tight and his lips clenched in pain.

Obi-Wan took a deep and calming breath and laid both his hands on the middle of the other male’s abdomen, where the wound was positioned. He was no Master in healing, actually Qui-Gon had barely started teaching him this ability, but it should be enough to at least stop the bleeding. Hopefully this would be enough, because Obi-Wan couldn’t do more, not when his connection to the Force was still not at its best. Shoving these thoughts aside for later, blue-green eyes closed and the ginger haired male fell into a trance like state. The Force he was able to call upon and gather around him, was pushed through his body to his arms and then through his hands into the injured man.

The three men gasped openly when the teenager’s hand slightly glowed greenish-blue, but they were even more surprised when he recoiled his hands again and when the blood had stopped.

“What kind of sorcery is this?” John gasped out, but no one really took notice of him. Clayton had rushed to Clifford’s side again, when the man had started to open his eyes once more. Lewis’ eyes were fixed on Obi-Wan and he was trying to figure this complex boy out.

“Thanks,” the bulky male eventually said. Blue-green eyes met brown ones and Obi-Wan nodded towards Lewis. “Not for that,” and the ginger haired male meant it. “Listen,” he continued, “I am sorry about what happened.” He had stood up and trotted a few steps away. He was halfway greeted by Ben, who wanted to be petted.

“Hey, that’s Clinch’s,” John exclaimed when he spotted the black stallion.

The young learner was shuffling with his feet, “Lester told me to take it...”

“Did that bastard tell ya to alarm the Sheriffs as too, eh?”Lewis inquired.

“I only alarmed Sheriff Darby of the small town I was passing... I thought they should at least have a warning, before you came through. The other Sheriffs... Lester wanted to send some after you,” he explained.

“That fucking snake,” Clayton exclaimed. Thankfully Clifford had fallen asleep deep enough to not wake up from it. He needed all the rest he could get.

A moment of silence passed between the group of men that was only disturbed by the howling of coyotes, the shuffling of the horses and Clifford’s light snoring.

 

“So what’re we gonna do now?” John eventually threw into the round. Three pairs of eyes settled on the ginger haired Padawan, who returned their gazes with a sceptical and unsure one.

“Yeah redskin, what now?” Lewis added.

“Why are you asking me?” he spoke without thinking.

They bandits looked at him as if he had grown another head. “Are ya serious? Ya challenged Clinch and escaped him... Ya earned the right to be our new leader.”

The young male could not quite believe what he was hearing. “You have got to be kidding me. I can’t be the leader of a bunch of bandits, no offense,” he quickly added the last part.

“None taken,” Lewis replied. Clayton took over and he sounded as miserable as Clifford still looked, “We’ve nobody else to lead us.” “Why do you even need somebody to lead you? You are your own free men and you can make decisions on your own,” but something told the Force user that they would not survive long on their own. Obi-Wan sighed at the desolate looks he was receiving. Qui-Gon had once told him that all beings are divided into those who lead and into those who follow. Some people simply were not meant to be the leader, some people simply needed somebody to tell them what to do and where to go next. It was kind of sad really, but not something the Padawan could change. “How about this,” he began and rubbed his temple, “I am going to help you free Clinch. You make sure I can escape him again and afterwards you can follow him again.” The three conscious and obviously tired men exchanged glances. They were silently thinking and arguing over what has been offered towards them.

“How,” Lewis eventually spoke up, “how are we supposed t’free him? He was brought t’Overhollow and the town will undoubt’dly overflow with Sheriffs.” The other two bandits grimaced and nodded in unison. “We’ve no chance of freeing Clinch AND escaping that hell hole alive.”

Obi-Wan spread his arms, “Don’t worry, I am actually pretty good at making decent plans for seemingly impossible situations.” He grinned toothily and the other males exchanged glances again. Clayton looked determined and he nodded once. John soon nodded as well and Lewis sighed before succumbing to his fate.

“Great,” the Padawan concluded, “then I would suggest we rest and as soon as the sun hits the horizon, we will be on our way to Overhollow,” he grinned satisfied when his new companions did as they were told. It was an unusual feeling to give the orders for once. Usually it was him following Qui-Gon’s, even though the older Jedi always asked for his Padawan’s opinion and considered what Obi-Wan told him. In the end it was still the Jedi Master’s decision however.

The small group quickly settled down and Obi-Wan kept watch for the rest of the night.

 

 

Thankfully Clifford was able to stand and ride a horse the following morning. Granted, he slowed the group down a lot, but Obi-Wan did not let himself be bothered by it. He took the time to form a plan.

He had asked Lewis and John about this world, everything that he could think of and that might proof to be useful. In the end the ginger haired Jedi came up with the plan to disguise as musicians. Lewis had told him that some kind of celebration was taking place in Overhollow, because the most wanted and the most frightening criminal in this territory had been captured and was about to be hung. Clayton and Clifford should stay behind in a cave they had found and Obi-Wan had somehow been able to afford two new sets of clothes for Lewis and John. They had met a travelling merchant and the Padawan had used his mind trick to get the things he wanted for free.

After the two bandits had changed clothes, the two C’s – as they were called by Lewis and John – had found it hilarious, they looked like two travelling vagabonds with instruments. To the ginger haired male’s delight, the violin was a common instrument in this world. Once again this was what Qui-Gon had helped him in. The older Jedi played the piano and he had often and patiently accompanied Obi-Wan when the Padawan had played the violin. A lot of Jedi frowned upon it. Learning to play an instrument was a waste of precious time in their eyes, but thankfully Qui-Gon was quite the unusual Jedi. There had been a time when the young Padawan had thought differently, but now he wouldn’t have his long haired companion any other way.

In the end, Obi-Wan carried a violin with him, Lewis a tambourine and John a banjo. If his plan would work, then Lewis and John would take care of the guards and Sheriffs by playing and performing and Obi-Wan would stealthily get into the prison Clinch was held in. Thankfully his belt held everything he would need for freeing the bandit, at least that is what Clayton had said.

The young Jedi took a deep and calming breath, while riding on Ben’s back, with two of the four bandits riding alongside him.

 

 

“So... that’s Overhollow?” asked Obi-Wan.

“Aye. Quite the busy little town, eh?” Lewis’ suspiciously eyed the excited crowd of people.

“You there, with the instruments, stop this instant!” a gruff voice sounded over the buzzing of the busy streets.

The young Padawan stopped his horse and motioned for his companions to do the same. John did not look convinced, but he did what he was told nevertheless. A large man with a strange looking moustache and dark, yet friendly, brown eyes approached them. Obi-Wan immediately caught side of the star he was wearing, which meant that this man was the Sheriff.

“What can we do for you, Sheriff?” he asked friendly and gave a small smile to the man.

“I wanted t’ask ya the same, lads.” The Sheriff eyed first Obi-Wan and then the two other males, but apparently he did not recognize either of them.

“Ah,” Lewis cut in, “we’re simple travellers searching for a place t’stay for one or two nights, ain’t that right?”

“Yeah,” John agreed.

“We can offer entertainment,” mentioned Obi-Wan and held up his violin for the Sheriff to see. The two bandits behind him did the same with their instruments.

“Is that so?” the man with the moustache did not look convinced in the slightest. “How about ya show me some of your... talent?”

The ginger haired Padawan nodded and slid down from his horse. He knew that the people would be suspicious of any newcomers, with such an important person in their prison. Thankfully the Force was his ally and even if his playing would be terrible, the Force could mind trick the poor man before him. As soon as the teenager’s feet had touched the ground, the male pushed his braid over his shoulder and brought his instrument in position. He let his bow grace the sides barely and then he closed his eyes and commanded his fingers to play a melody that would more or less fit in this time. The bandits had listened to his repertoire and together they had decided what they were supposed to play without sounding suspicious or out of place.

A fast melody started to play and Obi-Wan could feel the Sheriff’s delighted surprise at the tune. Soon Lewis and John joined in and a crowd started to gather to watch the playing and dancing of the three alien people.

 

As soon as the last note had sounded and the three comrades had gotten into their ‘ending pose’ as Clifford had called it – with Obi-Wan kneeling on the ground, bow lowered and John and Lewis back to back standing behind him – did the crowd cheer and applaud. The Sheriff nodded his consent.

“Apparently the three of ya have told the truth,” Obi-Wan wanted to cry at this. “What do ya think? Shall we allow these travellers t’stay for a few nights, they could play during the feast,” he said towards the gathered crowd that cheered in response. A clear ‘yes’.

“Feast?” The Padawan asked innocently, “What feast?”

“But haven’t ya heard?” the Sheriff exclaimed scandalized.

“Heard what?” John inquired.

“We’re not from around here,” the bearded Lewis added.

The Sheriff huffed, “We’ve captured Clinch Leatherwood.”

“What?” blue-green eyes widened in shock and surprise, “Are you serious?”

“Of course, we wouldn’t lie about that,” the Sheriff said.

One of the males in the crowd took a step forward. He looked like a commoner, probably a farmer or a merchant, guessed Obi-Wan. “We’re gonna hang him tomorrow ‘n afterwards there’ll be a great feast for everybody,” he explained in a gruff voice.

Obi-Wan turned towards his comrades. “Well, we would be honoured to play at such an occasion, right boys?” They nodded and again the crowd clapped.

“It’s decided then. Ya there,” the Sheriff pointed to a young female in the group, “show these gentlemen where they can rest.”

“Yes,” the female squeaked and immediately straightened her dirty dress. She motioned for Obi-Wan and his bandit friends to follow, to which they immediately complied.

They were lead towards one of the older looking houses at the end of the town. It looked well used and the paint was already peeling off from the wooden planks. The noise from the street was much quieter and to Obi-Wan’s dismay was the prison at the other side of the town. They would still make it work somehow.

“So, what do you think?” the Padawan asked his companions after he had seated himself on one of the squeaking beds. The mattress was uncomfortable hard and the whole room they had been assigned to, looked as if it had seen better days, but Obi-Wan was used to much worse places than this.

“Could be worse,” Lewis answered and he stroked his beard with his right hand.

“Just t’be sure,” started John, “we’ll wait until it’s darker and the people are drunk and then we’re gonna continue with that plan of yours.” Obi-Wan nodded. “What’s there to go wrong?” he asked jokingly and the ginger haired teenager could not help himself but to join the merry chuckling.

 

At first Obi-Wan and his two fellow players stayed together and entertained the merry people. Even the Sheriff from before, they still had not been properly introduced, had joined the festivities. At one point the Padawan had excused himself. He had told the people he had to do some ‘redskin’ business, which brought him some laughter, but then he was excused for a few minutes. John and Lewis would keep the crowd busy and when the ginger haired teenager was absolutely sure that no one was paying any attention to a strange looking boy roaming the streets, did he run as fast as he dared towards his destination.

The prison was even worse for wear than the public house they had been assigned to. There were two guard in front of the door and the young Jedi slowly approached the two of them and bowed with a smile gracing his lips.

“Would the two gentlemen like to be cheered up, since they cannot really participate in the festivities?” he asked in his most charming tone and showed them his violin. Of course the two men, who were armed to the teeth, were more than happy to have a private performance and thanks to their weak minds, it did not take long for Obi-Wan’s force enhanced playing to take effect. Obi-Wan could have done so much with the poor fellows before him, but in the end he had decided to simple put them to sleep. He had made sure to play barely loud enough for them to hear, so that no one else, least of all Clinch, was affected too. Carefully the young Jedi stepped over the bodies on the floor, making sure not to accidently step on them. Then Obi-Wan peered through one of the dirty windows. He couldn’t make out much, except a figure that was slumped in his wooden chair, with his legs on his desk. The Padawan guessed from the way his chest moved, that the person was asleep. Other than him, he could make out nobody else in the building. So with a deep breath, he carefully pushed the door open and winced at the squeaking hinges. He stopped after a few centimetres and then listened, only to be greeted by the sound of loud snoring. The teenager allowed himself to exhale in relief; the person was still deep asleep. He pushed the door more open, just enough for him to slip through and then he looked frequently around.

The figure slumped on the chair proofed to be a man, a Sheriff if the star on his chest was any indicator. In Obi-Wan’s opinion the man was not a good one. Then blue-green eyes moved over the spare furniture only to stop when they found keys hanging on a board on the wall right behind the Sheriff. He would surely need them.

With that the Padawan turned and investigated the cells in the wooden house. Most of the cells were empty, except something akin to a sleeping mattress and a chamber pot. The ginger haired male recoiled at that. He would certainly never use one of those, especially not when your captor could see everything you are doing. The Padawan shook his head and continued crouching and on silent feet his investigation. Some cells did not even held a place to rest and sleep on and it was destiny that the last cell, where a tall man was held captive, was such a cell. The ground of the cell was dirty with all kinds of fluids, but the ginger haired boy was not keen on finding out what that exactly entailed. His focused turned towards the hunched man instead.

Without his hat, without his boots and without his mantle did Clinch Leatherwood look only half as bad. The countless chains and ropes could have been an indicator as well. The Padawan could not say that he particularly liked this man, not after their last encounter, but seeing him defeated and bound like this was just inhuman. And there was simply no other word for it. The Qui-Gon copy looked like he was not properly feed and if the cups full of water that stood at his feet were any indicator, then the man did not even get something to drink. Clinch was leaning with his back against a dirty wall and from his position could Obi-Wan see, that the bandit’s hands were not only bound behind his back, but chained to the wall as well. Clinch was slightly hunched forward, in a quite uncomfortable position, and his eyes were closed. Hadn’t it been for the steady rising of his chest, then he would have appeared dead. His legs laid on the ground, they too were bound together and upon closer inspection, Obi-Wan saw that the man had been gagged and he had a collar around his neck that was chained to the ground. The Padawan shook his head in disgust. This man might be one of the most feared criminals, but even he deserved some humanity.

“How uncivilised,” Obi-Wan mumbled and started to inspect the lock. He had expected it to be shut, but he wanted to check nevertheless. The Sheriff gave a grunt from him and Obi-Wan momentarily froze, his eyes resting on the sleeping man. Thankfully the Sheriff did not wake up and after a few moments, did Obi-Wan deem it safe to move again. On silent feet, a skill he had acquired on countless stealth missions with his beloved Master, did Obi-Wan walk past the Sheriff. He had to stretch to be able to reach the bunch of keys, but eventually he held them victoriously in his hand. Now he only had to figure out, which were the right ones.

A through fully look at the look at the lock excluded half of the keys on the metal ring. A few more Obi-Wan could exclude, because their age did not fit to the lock. Deciding that he had to try, Obi-Wan put the first key on the hole.

 

After what seemed like an eternity to the impatient teenager, he finally found the right metal key to open the Sith cursed cell door. A loud click could be heard, followed by the squeaking of rusty metal hinges and Obi-Wan wondered why neither of the two sleeping men had woken up yet, when it hit him. They probably had heard at least some of his little melody. He stole a quick glance over his shoulder at the violin that rested innocently on the wooden floor near the door. He should not leave it here, otherwise the Sheriffs could easily connect the outbreak with him, if they were not too drunk for that. Shaking his head, the ginger haired male quickly focused back on the task at hand.

Like an eel did he slip into the cell towards the other male. He was silently debating if he should try to wake Clinch up so that he would not be alarmed upon somebody pulling and pushing at his bounds. He could alarm the Sheriff then and Obi-Wan had absolutely no desire to fight his way through a whole town of drunken and violent people. He sighed and laid one of his hand over the tall male’s mouth, just to be sure, and with his other hand, did he shake wide shoulders strongly.

Clinch’s muscles tensed under his hands and then the man jerked awake. Feverish blue eyes were wide in alarm when he raised his head. Obi-Wan’s stomach clenched at the fear that was palpable in them. How much he wanted to deny it, the bandit remembered the Padawan way too much of his Master.

“It’s alright, it’s just me,” the Padawan whispered and prayed that the Sheriff would not wake up as well. Clinch’s breathing was quick and Obi-Wan could feel the man’s rapid heartbeat through the thin and dirty shirt he was wearing. After a moment or two, the bandit started to calm down again, apparently he finally recognised the young Padawan, who was still kneeling before him.

“I am going to let go of you now, alright?” without waiting for an answer, started the ginger haired male to pull away. Clinch’s eyes were never leaving his face and there were so many raw emotions in them. Fear above all else, but also hope, insecurity, disbelief and pain. The young Jedi wondered how a single person was able to feel so much at once, but he quickly pushed this thought aside for later. He would ask Qui-Gon once he had found a way to get back to his Master.

Skilled and nimble fingers opened the leather collar around the bandit’s neck, so that the tall man was able to properly sit up. The Padawan carefully laid the collar down onto the wooden floor, making sure that the kettle did not rustle too much. The Sheriff was still sleeping, thank the Force, but time was short. The next thing that came off, was the gag, which allowed the man to breathe through his mouth again. For a moment it looked as if the bandit was about to say something, but he shut his mouth again, probably deciding that this was certainly not the right situation. Obi-Wan silently agreed with him.

The younger male then moved towards the feet and searched for a small key that would open the metal cuffs. Once they were replaced, the Padawan took the dagger he kept hidden in his boot and he cut the rope around Clinch’s legs with it. The bandit watched his every move with slightly feverish eyes, but at least he kept silent, even when Obi-Wan grabbed one of his legs and quickly massaged some feeling into it, along with some healing energy. The rope had been tied absurdly tight and undoubtedly Clinch’s legs had to feel numb. Only when Obi-Wan was satisfied, did he switch to the other leg and only when the older male moved both his legs on his own, did the Padawan move on. He then removed the rope that bonded the taller male’s arms together. Again the rope had been tight, but this time Obi-Wan ignored the man’s limbs. He positioned himself closer to the Qui-Gon copy, so that their chests were almost touching. The only sign that came from Clinch was, when he placed his chin on the smaller male’s shoulder. He was clearly tired and exhausted – and Obi-Wan would make sure that he at least had something to drink as soon as Clinch was out of the last chain – but there was no time for resting and both males knew that.

It was hard to balance the other’s added weight and to support him, while searching for the right key to finally free the captured man. Only when the lock opened, allowed Obi-Wan himself to cheer loudly in his mind.

Clinch’s complete weight now landed on the Padawan, but the ginger haired male had been prepared for this. Ever so gently did Obi-Wan lower the taller man to lie on the more or less cleaner spots on the ground. The bandit grunted and his face was set into a pained grimace. Quickly the Padawan hurried toward the cups that were filled with water. It did not take him long to find the fresh ones and once he supported the bearded man’s head, drank Clinch the fluid greedily. Some colour had appeared in the other’s face again and Obi-Wan deemed it safe to start the actual escape now. He pulled Clinch back into a sitting position and then turned so that his back was touching Clinch’s chest. Obi-Wan himself was kneeling and guided the other’s arms around his neck so that he could grab and secure them. Once he was satisfied with his grip on the outlaw, did Obi-Wan start to lean forward so that more and more of the other man laid across his back. The Padawan’s muscles screamed in protest but he ignored it for now. Calling the Force to help him, Obi-Wan moved his leg so that he was partly kneeling and partly standing. Only slowly did the other leg follow. He grunted with the effort it took to lift Clinch and Obi-Wan silently added ‘carrying his Master on his back’ to his future training, who knew when such a situation would arise again.

At least the bearded man was trying his hardest to stand on his own legs. He was failing miserable though, but the Padawan took notice and was thankful for the try. Calling out with the Force, Obi-Wan called the violin towards him and grabbed it as best as he could. He would dumb it somewhere outside. Clinch was noticing none of this, he had closed his eyes and was panting heavily. With a last glance towards the slightly twitching Sheriff, did the ginger haired Jedi open the door with the aid of the Force and stepped outside the small wooden house.

 

The sun shone bright into the two men’s faces ad Obi-Wan felt movement on his back and then, moments later, a beard scratched against his cheek. Dulled midnight blue eyes were squinting into the sun and Clinch exhaled audible.

“Didn’t think, I’d see that again,” he coughed out. His throat was still sore from lack of use.

“We are not safe yet,” Obi-Wan hated to put a damper on his heavy companion’s mood, but it was the truth.

“Trust ya,” was croaked out and Obi-Wan had the feeling that the bandit had suddenly become a lot heavier.

Quickly and not at all subtle did Obi-Wan cross the dusty street until they were behind the building opposite of the Sheriff office. There he sighed in relief when he saw that John had remembered putting Ben there. The horse would make things much easier.

He put Clinch down for the moment and went to greed Ben, who was eyeing the bandit wearily, but happily nibbled at the Padawan’s hand, when it was offered to him. Obi-Wan patted the animal’s head and got closer to the mammal’s ear, which twitched at the Padawan’s words. “I need your help Ben. I know you probably are not fond of him,” the horse gave a huff and scraped with one of his hooves, “but I want to help him and I can’t carry him on my own, so...would you be so kind...?” he let the sentence trail off and thankfully he did not need a mind suggestion for the animal to lower itself to the floor. “Thank you Ben,” the horse whinnied silently, mindful of the two unconscious men lying only a few metres away.

Clinch gave him a strange look. “Don’t say a single word, or the Force help me, I will leave you right here and now.” It was not the Jedi way to threaten somebody, but Obi-Wan had simply been through too much. Clinch quickly averted the blue-green eyes – which stared hard at the bandit – and to the Padawan’s surprise, insecurity and shame radiated from the man. He could feel it clearly in the Force, and the ginger haired Jedi was left to wonder what that meant.

Shaking his head, he decided to deal with that later. He grimly thought that his list of things he still had to do was getting longer and longer.

“Come on, we do not have much time,” Obi-Wan said aloud and he offered his hand towards the still sitting outlaw. Clinch glared at it for a moment and the Padawan could almost see the gears in the bearded bandit’s mind working. But then the outlaw took the offered hand and he helped his saviour as good as he was able until he was half lying and half sitting on the horse’s back.

“What’s with ma things?” Clinch eventually asked, on the edge of consciousness.

Obi-Wan shot him a sour look. He was tempted to tell the bandit to go and get them himself, but that would have been cruel. Before he made up his mind or could open his mouth, he could hear the sound of two pairs of running feet. Like a flash did Obi-Wan turn around and grabbed for his dagger. He relaxed his battle ready stance, once he realised that it were John and Lewis.

“What are you doing here? You are supposed to distract the crowd,” he said instead of a greeting.

“Aye,” John panted, “but what good would it do, when they already know who we are?”

“What?” the Padawan said aloud.

“We heard some of ‘em talking... they recognised us,” Lewis explained. Obi-Wan cursed, this was not going like planned.

“Alright,” he tried to bring calmness back into the situation, “watch out for Clinch... you better start leaving this place.”

“What about ya?” John wanted to know and there was real concern in his voice. The Padawan was slightly surprised. Somehow John did not appear to be the real bandit material after all.

“His things,” he motioned towards Clinch, who needed all of his energy to stay somewhat straight on the horse’s back, “are still in their custody. Maybe I can distract the people for a little while,” he trailed off, but there was no need for him to elaborate what he was about to do.

“Ya can’t be serious,” Lewis protested and he looked as if he wanted to say something else, but Obi-Wan silenced him with raising his hand. “Look, we cannot afford to get captured and believe me, when I tell you that I have escaped worse things.”

The two bandits exchanged glances, then their eyes moved towards the pained and barely conscious form of their leader.

“Just... be careful,” Lewis eventually said.

“Yeah... ‘n don’t let those bastards capture ya,” John agreed and he took the reins of Ben. The horse nickered as well.

“I will. And now GO, before they notice that we are not on the feast anymore,” with that the ginger haired Jedi Padawan started running back to the Sheriff’s office. The two bodies lying before it were already twitching again and it was just a matter of time before they would completely wake up again.

 

Inside the prison, Obi-Wan hectically looked around for Clinch Leatherwood’s belongings. The Padawan somehow had the feeling that they would make sure to present them to their captive, knowing full well that he would never reach them. Then blue-green eyes landed on a chest standing near a wall right opposite of Clinch’s cell. He quickly picked up the keys that he had previously discarded in the ground and almost hectically searched for the fitting one.

It turned out to be the last one on the metal ring and Obi-Wan would have cursed the Force, hadn’t it helped so much in the last few days.

Silently the Padawan cheered when his gaze landed on Clinch’s coat that was neatly folded on top of a pile of other things. Without thinking he put the heavy black coat on. It was too big for the small ginger haired male, then again, Qui-Gon’s robes were too. Obi-Wan did not let himself be bothered by the clothes that hung almost loosely on his shoulders and picked up the black leather boots. The Padawan was not sure how, but somehow he had managed to pull them over his own boots and he fastened them with the help of the Force.

At least the hat and the belt were fitting the ginger haired male, even though the unfamiliar feeling of the two colts near his thighs was highly irritating. At last he put on the kerchief and bounded it so that half of his face was covered. Only when he was satisfied with the result, meaning that nothing he was wearing was a hindrance in any way, did Obi-Wan take the first step.

The clothes were heavy and uncomfortable – they also smelt of Clinch Leatherwood and of other substances the Padawan did not want to name – and Obi-Wan had not expected the loud clang of the black leather boots. He froze in shock and looked horrified at the form of the Sheriff, who was fully waking up now. Cursing in all languages he could think of now, the Jedi Padawan dashed out of the building into the already darkening town. For a moment the Padawan thought about following Lewis and John, but then he would not be a good distraction, so with a sigh, Obi-Wan turned towards the festival. Grimly he took one of the guns he was not about to really shoot someone, and made his way towards the source of the music and merry chatter.

It had not taken much, actually Obi-Wan did not even have to fire the gun in his hand, to get the undivided attention of the townspeople. They had spotted him just fine. Needless to say, the uproar had been enormous and for a moment, the young Padawan leaner regretted his decision. He was literally running for his life now, dodging bullets and avoiding everything that could either harm him, or hold him up. It certainly wasn’t as easy as it sounded, but the Padawan had stamina and enough wit to eventually escape the townspeople.

 

* * *

 

For a few moments, Obi-Wan allowed himself to lean against a large rock formation. He tried to calm his desperately beating heart and to calm down his breathing again. After he had calmed down more or less, did the ginger haired man listen to any suspicious noise. Deciding that his ‘friends’ must have lost sight of him, he changed the direction he was heading. The bandits and he had found a cave nearby that was very well hidden and where they could spend a night or two, until things had settled down again. He would check if really no one was following him anymore or that no one would pick up his trails again and then the Padawan would head there.

 

The day was nearing its end and Obi-Wan still had not reached his destination. Granted, he was not walking very fast, but only because he was erasing all his traces, just to be sure.

When the cave finally came in sight – he did not really see it, for a big rock formation hid the entrance – the Padawan in too big clothes allowed himself to exhale in relief. He had long since taken off the too large boots and was carrying them in his hands. He still wore the black robe and the hat, for it protected him against the setting sun and the wind.

“Hey!” he called out, so that the others knew he was there.

“Is that ya, redskin?” the familiar voice of John called out. Nobody else made a sound.

“Yes,” Obi-Wan called right back, he was too tired for real small talk. Not a moment later, John and Lewis rounded the boulder, weapons drawn and not secured. As soon as they spotted the young Padawan however, they lowered their guns.

“Ya look ridiculous,” John greeted the newcomer.

Obi-Wan chose to ignore this and pulled out the warm robe, “How are things here?”

“Clinch’s resting, Clifford’s back on his feet ‘n other than that, there’s nothing to tell,” the bearded Lewis quickly summarized the state of affairs.

“That is good to hear,” the Padawan offered and eventually followed the two older males into their hideout. A small fire was burning in the cave and some meat was being prepared by the two C’s. Only now did Obi-Wan realise how hungry he actually was.

“There’s our hero,” Clayton exclaimed and offered the newcomer a seat, while Clifford offered him something to eat.

“Just one moment,” the Padawan retorted and quietly walked towards the sleeping form in the back of the small cave.

Clinch had been covered with a few blankets, but at least he looked livelier now. The colour of his skin had also returned to a healthy tone and it looked as if the fever had already lowered. The ginger haired male carefully put the boots next to the sleeping man, followed by a folded robe and the belts. At last he pulled the hat from his head and sat it atop the pile of clothing. Clinch would need it once he woke up, or at least he would want to have it back.

“We gave ‘im somethin’ t’drink ‘n t’eat,” Clifford, who had followed the younger male’s movement with his eyes, said in a heavy accent. Apparently the Padawan was not the only tired one here. Obi-Wan nodded in response. He was no doctor, but he knew Clinch was going to be his old self again pretty soon.

“He’ll live,” the Padawan just stated and finally allowed himself to sit next to the fire and to eat. It felt ridiculously great to restore his resources and for a moment, he even forgot that he was in a strange and alien place, without his Master and in company of a group of rough bandits.

 

* * *

 

 

“Hey! Wake up!” Obi-Wan was none to gently woken by a more or less gentle kick in the side and a loud voice close to his ear. It was funny, he had not even realized that he had fallen asleep in the first place.

Groggily he blinked his eyes open. It took him a moment to bring his thoughts and focus back into the here and now. “What’s the matter?” he asked Lewis, who was standing above him. The bandit in question grimaced and the ginger haired teenager guessed that his accent was responsible for that. It was always bad when he just woke up, as Qui-Gon liked to point out. Obi-Wan was always highly embarrassed by this, his Master just found it highly amusing.

“We’re gonna move out, get as far away from ‘ere as possible,” he explained.

It took Obi-Wan’s brain a moment to figure out what the man was talking about. “On who’s orders?”

“Mine,” a deep baritone voice answered. Lewis gave the younger male a meaningful glance and moved away to pack his gear. Now with Lewis out of the way, Obi-Wan could get a good look at the owner of the deep baritone voice. Clinch Leatherwood, almost in all his glory, stood near the cave entrance. He still looked a little sick, but apparently it did not bother him. His midnight blue eyes rested on Obi-Wan, but there was something in them, that hadn’t been there before. A certain warmth, perhaps acceptance, was hidden in their midst.

The Padawan suddenly realized that he was staring and he quickly averted the other male’s gaze and stood up instead. Clinch’s eyes were still on him, but the younger male pretended not to notice. He was quickly stretching his muscles and eventually settled for helping his new found comrades with packing and carrying their belongings towards the horses. Clinch followed him outside of course.

Out of the cave, the ginger haired Padawan learner was greeted by an over enthusiastic Ben, who nibbled on Obi-Wan’s braid.

“Nice to see you too, Ben,” Obi-Wan chuckled and patted the stallion’s large snout.

“He likes ya,” Obi-Wan almost jumped out of his skin, when Clinch’s voice sounded right behind him. He did not need to turn to now that the bandit had moved very close.

“Seems like it,” he did not know what to retort. The more surprised he was, when a larger hand joined his and also petted the stallion.

“Ben’s a fine name,” the tall man continued. His voice sounded strangely soft, but there was also something else.

It suddenly hit the ginger haired male. “You don’t think that I am going to keep him, do you?” The silence that greeted him, was answer enough. “He is your horse... I am not going to take what isn’t mine.” The larger hand paused and Obi-Wan felt how his companion tensed behind him. Something else sprung to Obi-Wan’s mind. The way Clinch had acted, the shame and insecurity in his eyes when he had been found by the Padawan and the way he had looked at Obi-Wan after admitting that he had given an order... it all pointed to one thing. “Ben, even though I named him, is not mine to keep. Neither are the men mine to command...” he turned around, forcing Clinch to take a step away. “I am not going to take away your position and I am certainly not going to become a bandit any time soon.”

Something in the other’s expression changed. “Ya truly mean that, don’t ya?” Obi-Wan nodded and confusion appeared on the older man’s face.

“Is it truly so hard to believe, that there are people in this world, who simply do not seek power, who do not want to be rich, to take everything they want from those who have it?”

“Aye,” the tall bandit finally admitted. “Every men seeks power ‘n lusts after everything that’s beyond his reach.”

Obi-Wan shook his head, “I feel sorry for you, truly.” A questioning and confused glare was his only answer. “I feel sorry for you, because you have obviously suffered from a traumatic experience, that has destroyed all your faith in humanity.” Now why did this remind him of Qui-Gon? “I cannot make you believe me, but... I could just go and walk away... leave you and your men in peace, if that’s what you want.”

The silence between the two males seemed to stretch and the Padawan almost believed that he would get no answer, when Clinch finally opened his mouth, “No.”

“Excuse me?”

“I don’t want ya t’leave. You’re different... I want ya t’proof that you’re speakin’ the truth.”

“Well, prepare yourself to be convinced differently then, Clinch Leatherwood.”

“Do your worst, Obi-Wan Kenobi,” and there was something close to respect in his voice.

 

The following days passed in a blur. Between riding – most of the time with Clinch in front of him on Ben’s back – and camping was not much time for other things. In those days, the relationship between the bandit leader and the Padawan improved greatly. Obi-Wan soon figured out that Clinch was actually a very kind man – not unlike Qui-Gon – just unsure about other people and with great trust issues. Not like the Padawan had expected anything else, but it was nice to actually hear it from the man in question himself. In return Obi-Wan told the tall man about his early days as a student, the doubt in his early apprenticeship and the constant fear to disappoint his Master. It had taken quite a time, but eventually the bandits had understood that Obi-Wan was NO slave and that ‘Master’ was just the term for teacher.

The ice really broke – on Obi-Wan’s part, when Clinch draped his robe over him during one particularly cold night. The man himself had settled closer to the fire while keeping watch, but the gesture had been greatly appreciated. Therefore the Padawan had helped the still slightly weak man – nothing else was to be expected after such a harsh imprisonment – with everything he could, including the bath in a river they discovered during their journey. Obi-Wan was silently pleased to see that his healing skills were steadily improving, especially if you considered the constant trouble their little group found themselves in.

 

“I have a bad feeling about this,” Obi-Wan mumbled, but of course Clinch caught it nevertheless. He was sitting directly behind the Padawan after all.

“Whatever do ya mean, boy?” he asked and took the rains that the Padawan offered him.

“I can’t explain it... it is just a feeling.”

Clinch grunted in response, but kept on riding. There was not much else he could have done. Obi-Wan leaned back against the muscled chest of his riding companion and closed his eyes. He reached out with his other senses instead, but he found nothing that could cause the Force to stir the way it did. The only thing he spotted that was unusual, was a single human being, relatively far away from them. He was moving their way though.

He felt the tall man shift and a moment later, warm breath tickled his ear. “You’re gonna tell me what’s the matter, or not?”

“I think we are being followed, but I cannot guarantee it.”

Again the bandit just grunted in response, but Obi-Wan knew what that meant. Clinch would put two people on watch the following night. The older male would never admit it, but he did believe that Obi-Wan had somehow special abilities. Something about ‘redskins and their magical nonsense’ was the term he had used. The Padawan had just taken it all with a good portion of humour.

 

Nothing happened that night, neither the following night, but the Padawan’s bad feelings did not vanish. In fact, they actually intensified. Obi-Wan was now absolutely sure that they were being followed, but it was just a single soul. He couldn’t pose THAT much of a threat, could he? Still, he kept his senses on high alert, but he also made sure none of the men caught onto it. It wouldn’t do them any good, if suspicion and fear arose.

 

Despite all his careful and little preparations, Obi-Wan was still surprised when he and his comrades found themselves face to face with a strangely acting Lester.

As soon as Clinch had spotted the man, it had taken everything on Obi-Wan’s part to keep him from doing something extremely stupid.

“Well, well, well... look who we’ve got ‘ere. A redskin and five wannabe bandits,” Lester had said after getting off his horse. Five guns were pointing at his head, while his own was pointing at Clinch, who had protectively stepped in front of Obi-Wan. “Ain’t that sweet, protectin’ the welp, aren’t ya?”

“What do ya want, Lester?” Clinch had demanded. It was clear that the former member of the small group of bandits had gone completely insane. His crazy smile was indicator enough, but the way he acted and moved screamed of a mind gone insane. Probably due to the heat, Obi-Wan figured. “Do ya have a desth wish, after what ya’ve done?”

The blonde man had shrugged and before any of them could comprehend what exactly was going on, he had pulled the trigger. Obi-Wan’s Jedi training and quick reflexes were the only reasons why Clinch was still alive. Not a moment later, Lewis had four holes in his body and with a final gasp, he had tumbled forward on the dusty ground, to never move again.

“Good thinkin’ boy,” Clinch praised while getting on his feet and dusting of his clothes. He blinked in surprise when he did not receive any kind of remark and his surprise soon turned to worry, when he turned to be greeted by the sight of Obi-Wan still cowering on the ground, holding his side. Something red dropped between his fingers onto the sand and the tall bandit was immediately by the younger male’s side, followed closely by his comrades. Gently the bandit leader picked the smaller male up from the ground and positioned him so, that he was sitting on the ground instead, with his back against Clinch’s chest. This way Clayton – who had become something like a doctor thanks to Obi-Wan’s lectures – could take a look at the bleeding wound.

“It doesn’t look t’well,” Clayton admitted in a tiny voice and without meeting his leader’s eyes. Clinch’s tightened his hold on Obi-Wan. The Padawan grunted in pain when Clayton inspected the wound. It was not that he hadn’t been shot before, but somehow this was different. Maybe it was, because the bullet had damaged a main artery. At least that was what Obi-Wan suspected from the amount of blood that came flowing out of his wound.

A gloved hand carefully guided his head back so that it lay on Clinch’s shoulder. “Relax boy, I’ve got ya.”

Obi-Wan would have laughed at the scurrility of this situation, but instead he moved so that he was not back to chest with the larger man, but that his uninjured side was leaning against Clinch’s frame. He was a Jedi, granted he still was in training, but he did not fear death. He knew that it would be the will of the Force should he die now and he knew that he was going to be one with the Force should he die. Qui-Gon had once said that death was not the end, but just the start of another adventure. He had nothing against adventures, quite the opposite in fact. The only catch was, that he would leave Qui-Gon then. Obi-Wan was not sure if he was ready to do so just yet. It was not like he was attached to the long haired man – maybe he was just a little – but it was rather the other way around. Qui-Gon had already lost one apprentice and the love of his life, to lose another important person could very well be his undoing. It had been a close call with Tahl and hadn’t it been for Obi-Wan, Qui-Gon would undoubtedly have fallen to the dark side.

“Master...” the ginger haired male mumbled almost inaudible, but the Force caught it nevertheless. It also understood the unspoken plead in this single word. And as soon as this single word had been uttered, the Force got to work.

 

The Padawan jerked, suddenly more awake then before. There had been grave change in the Force and something in the back of his mind had come back to life. He gasped once he realized that it was the bond he shared with Qui-Gon.

Clinch, who was obviously thinking that he younger male was in pain, hushed the Padawan and hold him just a little tighter.

 _{Obi-Wan?}_ the familiar voice of Qui-Gon sounded in the Padawan’s head.

 _{Master,}_ the ginger haired male answered dutifully. His mind was getting foggy.

 _{Obi-Wan! Padawan, are you alright?}_ the worry was evident in the baritone voice.

_{I’ve been shot... I think I am dying, Master.}_

_{Not on my watch, stay with me little one.}_ The order was crystal clear.

 _{Yes Master.}_ Obi-Wan struggled to open his eyes again, only to find himself being surrounded by Clinch’s small company. The men were standing in a half circle around their leader, who was still holding the dying boy in his arms. Their expressions were grave and an air of sadness surrounded all of them. It certainly was a strange picture to see them standing there in a circle and with their hats held before them. Clifford shot the injured male a small smile once he noticed the Padawan staring.

 

Obi-Wan was not quite sure how long they just stood – in his and Clinch’s cases sat – there, but at one point he felt a tug on the bond he shared with his Master, which made him raise his head from its comfortable position on the taller male’s chest.

If he concentrated enough, which was hard enough with him being on the edge of death, he could see a blurred shape at the horizon and it was nearing them.

“What-” Clinch began after he had followed the other male’s gaze.

Obi-Wan laid his head back where it had previously rested. “My Master is coming,” he answered.

The bandit leader growled, “He’d better h’rry then.” Obi-Wan huffed in amusement.

Qui-Gon was steadily making progress and as soon as he was in eye-sight, Obi-Wan could feel the male he was leaning on, tensing. The other bandits were also mumbling to each other and it didn’t take the Padawan long to figure out why. Qui-Gon and Clinch DID look like each other after all, even though the Jedi Master’s hair was much longer. That and his nose was crooked, from when it was broken.

“Padawan,” the Master gasped out once he had kneeled down next to his injured student. He had only glanced briefly at the others that were present. Obi-Wan knew that his long haired Master had noticed the odd familiarity between him and the bandit leader, but he had chosen to focus on his Padawan for now.

He took a look at the wound before calling the Force for assistance. “And you wonder why I am not suggesting that you take the trials,” Qui-Gon joked, “I cannot let you alone without you getting severely wounded.”

“And here I thought you didn’t suggest me, because you would miss me too much,” Obi-Wan replied with a pained gasp, when large hands rested on his wounded side. The bandit tightened his arms once more and Obi-Wan took one of his hands in his. He didn’t want to be squished to death after all. Qui-Gon just shot them a quick glance before concentrating back on healing his student.

“That’s the unofficial reason, insolent brat of mine.”

“Well, you shouldn’t let the Council hear this Master,” Obi-Wan continued despite the strange feeling of flesh being healed.

“Afraid for your old Master’s sake?” there was a certain shimmering in midnight blue eyes.

“More afraid of my own fate, Master. I don’t want to spend a whole year at the temple again, because the Council deemed it wise and smart to put you under ‘temple arrest’ as a punishment.” The so called ‘punishment’ only had as effect that Qui-Gon had enjoyed and savoured his time in the temple’s gardens, as well as the Room of a thousand Fountains. He had also enjoyed the time he had been able to properly spend with his usually busy Padawan. In the end it had turned out more of a punishment for Obi-Wan – who had been completely innocent of the failed mission and the argument between his Master and the Council – than for his maverick of a Master.

“Fear is the path to the dark side brat, I thought I had taught you that,” Qui-Gon kept on teasing. His goal was to distract his student from the pain.

“Attachments are too, Master. But since when do the rules bother us?”

“True my impudent Padawan.”

Obi-Wan chuckled and immediately regretted it, when his side hurt. His hand was clenched in a comforting manner. He appreciated the gesture from the bandit leader, who undoubtedly was totally confused by the words he and his Master had exchanged. “You know me Master,” he finally spoke up again, “in truth I am one of Master Yoda’s secret Sith apprentices, send out to torture a few well chosen Jedi Masters.”

“Ah yes, how could I have forgotten?” the Jedi Master rolled his eyes in amusement and finally retreated his hands. He checked his work a last time, before sitting back on his heels. The exhaustion was clearly written in those midnight blue eyes, at least for Obi-Wan it was. The Padawan doubted anybody else, especially nobody who didn’t know Qui-Gon like he did, would notice.

“Maybe you are getting old, Master...” the Padawan yawned and unconsciously leaned further into the warmth behind him. He knew very well that Qui-Gon had sent him a Force suggestion, not that he could have stopped it, even had he wanted to.

“Perhaps,” Obi-Wan barely heard his Master’s reply, before he fell into a dreamless sleep.

 

When Obi-Wan came back to his senses, the first thing he noticed was that he was surrounded by comfortable warmth. After a while he began to recognise that he was leaning against a muscled body that smelled suspiciously like sand, gun powder and leather. That could only mean that he was leaning against no other than the bandit leader himself. But there was also something else, something that was covering him. It felt light and awfully familiar. Obi-Wan, despite his still sleepy mind, had not to think long to know exactly what was covering him. It was his Master’s large brown robe.

Deciding that he needed to stretch his muscles and limbs, the ginger haired Padawan freed himself from the warm embrace and sat up, blinking against the sun that stood high on the horizon.

“Fin’lly awake, I see,” greeted Clinch with a hint of amusement in his voice. Obi-Wan only hummed in agreement.

The atmosphere around the five bandits and the Jedi Master was calm and relaxed, which told Obi-Wan everything he needed to know. Qui-Gon and Clinch had talked, probably quite a lot, and they had come to some odd agreement, which Obi-Wan probably did not want to know.

Qui-Gon, who had watched the scene with fondness in his eyes, eventually stood up from his kneeling position and dusted off his trousers after stretching his spine. The movement caught the Padawan’s attention and he looked at his mentor, who had a certain look in his midnight blue eyes. Obi-Wan immediately knew what that look meant. They had to leave...

Reluctantly the Padawan followed his Master’s example and stood up. He gave the bandit leader a sad smile and obediently trotted to his teacher’s side, handing him the brown robe. The long haired man gratefully took the offered item, but did not put it on, instead he laid a hand on his young learner’s shoulder in a sign of comfort and love.

“I guess that’s it then...” the ginger haired teenager began awkwardly, not really knowing what to say.

“Ya sure, ya don’t wanna stay?” John required. The hand on Obi-Wan’s shoulder tightened just a fraction.

“There’s always a place for ya, ya know,” Clifford added, “besides, Ben would terrible miss ya.”

“I’m sure he would...” he tilted his head and smiled in amusement. “But I have to decline your offer,” Obi-Wan gazed up at his Master, who’s expression was unreadable, “I already have a place where I belong.” Midnight blue shimmered with love and Obi-Wan immediately knew that he had made the right decision. Not that he had any doubts to begin with.

“Good luck then, redskin... ‘n stay out of trouble,” John said and the men behind him nodded their agreement.

Only Clinch said nothing. He simply stood there, with a strange expression on his features. Obi-Wan was about to ask what the matter was, when the bandit leader suddenly stepped forward, taking his hat off in the process. The tall male allowed himself to grin before placing his black hat on the Padawan’s head.

“There ya go. This way you’ll have somethin’ t’remember us.”

“Thank you,” the gesture said more than a thousand words and Obi-Wan was quite speechless. From the partly amused and partly knowing look he received from the older man, he knew that he had been understood as well.

“Don’t do anythin’ I wouldn’t do as well.”

“Like been a righteous man with manners and good behaviour?” Obi-Wan cheekily retorted. He could feel amusement from the open bond he shared with his Master and Clinch presented him a toothy grin.

“Exactly, boy.”

“Not if I have a say in this,” Qui-Gon suddenly cut in and he moved his hand from his Padawan’s shoulder, to said teenager’s head, only to push it down in a playful manner.

“Hey!” the Padawan protested and struggled to escape the older male’s grip, who eventually let him go. He straightened his gifted hat and looked up, only to be greeted by the craziest sight in the history of the whole Jedi Order. To his right stood, calm and regal, Jedi Master Qui-Gon Jinn, with his hands folded before him and his robe draped over his arm. To his left stood, proud and pretentious, the bandit leader Clinch Leatherwood, who’s hands rested on his belt. Obi-Wan desperately wished that he had a holo-camera in this very moment.

“We should be going now,” Qui-Gon broke the silence.

“Don’t let us stop ya,” Clinch answered and the man shook hands. There was something about the way they did it. To Obi-Wan it almost looked like a strange competition. The Padawan shook his head. Whatever there was between the two men, he would not interfere. Besides, it seemed friendly enough. And who knew, maybe Qui-Gon would tell him after Obi-Wan had told him his own tale. The Jedi Master would surely want to know everything that had happened.

“Come Padawan.”

“Yes Master,” the teenager hurried after the already retreating male, but not without turning around one last time to wave his companions good-bye. They would never see each other again, of that Obi-Wan was certain, but the memory would forever remain.

“So Padawan,” Qui-Gon began and once more did he drape his arm over his younger companion’s shoulders, “I guess this is the end of another one of your adventures.”

“Indeed Master... Do you think there is a reason why the Force sent me here?”

“I don’t know, then again, the Force always has a reason... Perhaps this journey was for you to experience and learn something you wouldn’t have otherwise. Perhaps it was also to teach me a lesson,” Qui-Gon explained in his mystical way.

“You?”

The taller male huffed and a small smile appeared on his features, “Oh child, have you truly forgotten that I am only human too? I can make mistakes like every other being and I can still learn one or two things. Even master Yoda is still learning, even though he would deny it, if asked. Don’t tell him that I said that though.”

“I won’t,” the Padawan quickly promised as he saw the troubled look on his teacher’s features. A moment of silence passed between the two Jedi, but then something else came to the front of Obi-Wan’s mind. “Master? How exactly are we going to get back?”

“I have absolutely no idea, Padawan mine. But, as always, I will follow the will of the Force.”

“Why do I have a bad feeling about this?”

“I don’t know Padawan, tell me,” and there was that certain sparkle in the older man’s eyes, that promised hours of meditations and training. Obi-Wan mentally sighed, he had dug his own grave in this one, but who knows, maybe he could suggest to Qui-Gon a few new training exercises...

“Well, at least we are not separated anymore,” Obi-Wan offered.

“Indeed, my brave Sith,” the taller male chuckled, “quite indeed.”

**Author's Note:**

> Please leave a Review and tell me what you think!
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